


Macabre: Under the Moon Light

by Bloody_Vixen



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Bullying, Cardinal Copia Fucks a Corpse, Dude It's Necrophilia, Fucking On Graves, Grave Fucking, Horror, M/M, Necrophilia, enclosed spaces, from discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 09:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_Vixen/pseuds/Bloody_Vixen
Summary: Cardinal Copia had always loved and loathed the man who made life hell for him. So when the man dies, he decided to pay his final respects.AKADiscord trash with AO3 skin.





	Macabre: Under the Moon Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cardinal_Copia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Copia/gifts), [PickerofCorpses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickerofCorpses/gifts).



> So...necrophilia.
> 
> Corpse fucking. 
> 
> _...yeah_
> 
> (breathes)
> 
> SERIOUSLY. IF YOU COME IN HERE EXPECTING CONSENSUAL FUCKING WHEN I TAGGED IT AS _NECROPHILIA_ THEN I URGE YOU TO GO BACK.
> 
> __  
> **GO BACK.**  
> 
> 
> I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS. I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS AND _FINISHED_! 
> 
> Discord trash with AO3 skin. Enjoy it folks!
> 
> EDIT: Fixed some Italian grammar courtesy of black_elleboro. Thank you for your comment!

* * *

His body had been embalmed and trussed up like a particularly well made mannequin. His brothers lay beside him but Copia didn't really care for the other two. His eyes were on the youngest, the last: the Third.

He was magnificent to behold and was worth the bribes and threats he had sent to the caretaker. He would have to murder the man later of course but that's then, not now.

Not when his 'beloved' was all his.

For now.

It took him some time to pry the coffin open.

It had been ostentatious and old.

The Third would have hated it.

The top had been rather heavy though and despite having trained for the past few months for the tour, he found himself struggling to pull it up.

Trust the Third to also have the heaviest of coffin of them all. Eventually, after heaving and grunting he lets out a scream as the lid is open and...

...The Third wasn't there. Copia stared blankly at the empty space, blinking and wondering when he felt a hand falling onto his shoulder.

"Well, well, what are you up to, _Cardinal_?"

Copia turns around to find...The Third smirking at him.

The Cardinal screamed, scrambling backwards, smacking against the coffin.

The Third - impossibly alive - grinned as the Cardinal babbled in horror. He didn't see the former Papa's hands as they shove him straight into the open coffin.

He struggled to get up but the thing that called itself Papa pushed him harder before sending a mind spinning backhand across his face. Copia whimpered clutching his face as the rest of him was shoved into the wooden tomb. Each time he tried to escape, the Third sends him another blow until all the Cardinal could do was whine in pain.

"Bad little rat, trying to despoil my corpse. Well, we can't have such _blasphemy_ can we?" he heard the older man croon, a finger trailing his cheek.

"Oh no. Such things demand... _punishment_." Copia barely had time to comprehend what he meant when he hears the coffin lid slam down and he found himself covered in darkness.

* * *

Copia screamed and clawed at the cover; the darkness, his once friend began to suffocate him as he realized that he was trapped. He prayed and tried to calm down – the mortician would return, of course the man would hear him. Copia vowed he would spare the prick if he would but open this coffin and release him.

His breathing calmed down and he chided his panic – knowing that he had wasted precious oxygen. Just wait, Copia, you just tripped and fell and it was most certainly not because the Third had pushed you in, oh no, there has to be a rational explanation.

Then he felt the coffin move.

Horror shot through him again as his prison rocked and swayed, and no matter how loud he shouted and banged, whoever it was – can’tbethethirdhediedhe _died_ – paid him no heed.

As the time passed a horrible thought passed his mind – he could not help it. He had nightmares once of being buried alive. They were nightmares but this time it felt all too real.

He could hear his heart thundering in its cage as the reality of it – the truth sank into his bones.

He was going to die.

Then the coffin lid slammed open with a bang, with it cool fresh air…

And freedom.

Copia blinked before bolting upwards, his hand grasping the edges of the coffin as he propelled himself out of the infernal thing and fell straight onto the cold, hard ground.

The land was freezing and filthy but they felt like the finest silk to his hands, the air so crisp they tasted sweeter than honey itself. He felt something wet dripping onto his palm and it took him a while to realize that it had been his tears.

“Bravo, the rat didn’t piss himself.” A familiar voice said disappointedly. Copia’s head snapped at the voice and he saw…

…The Third sitting on a tombstone, his face lit under the pale moonlight. The Cardinal could only stare, half crying and half furious as the once dead man leaned back, exposing his exquisite neck and smirking like a particularly pleased cat.

“Why so angry, Cardinal? I thought you missed me.” He uttered, licking his lips. Then, white gloved hand stroked and grabbed his groin as Papa, growled, “Missed _this.”_

Copia did or had because right now all he saw was red – burning, furious red. With a howl, he cried out in rage as he lunged towards the spectre. He expected resistance but he was met with nothing as he tackled the bastard down.

Papa Emeritus the Third cackled as Copia pinned him down. It was deep, raspy and wrong and it didn’t stop – not even when Copia slammed his fists onto his painted face, not when bones cracked and flesh tore apart to reveal muscles turned grey. So deaf to his fury, he barely grasped as his hands cracked sockets, snapped the jaw and finally with one final punch, sank through the face of a man he once envied and lusted.

Copia breathed heavily, his head reeling as his knuckles ached and the feel of flesh and bone finally woke him.

“No – NO.”

He cried as comprehension dawned upon him. Not again – he did not mean it – he did not mean it – he would have bawled but all that came out was a sobbed mess as he bent low, fingers trying to fix the face he dearly wanted. But his rage had robbed him of that, all but for Papa’s lips.

They were the only things left untouched, still fixed in a grin. Copia wept as he pressed his lips upon the Third’s, not wincing at the cold flesh tinted with the scent of formaldehyde.

Never had he tasted anything so delicious.

Heat burned within him, cleansing him of the guilt and sadness minutes before.

Yes, this was what he wanted. The Third beneath him, unable to mock or bully him; teasing him as he’d saunter down the halls, eyes accompanied by that condescending sneer.

_“Oh, Copia off to kiss my father’s arse?”_

_“I knew I smelled something awful, OMEGA COME, we have vermin to kill.”_

_“Oh Copia, still here? I thought rats don’t live beyond two years.”_

The lack of jaw helped as Copia pushed his tongue down and sucked upon that part that often lashed but not lapped. With a jerk, he pulled Papa’s tongue out from the remains of his skull. The taste burned on his and for a wild moment Copia thought of swallowing it down, consuming the cause of so many of his pain. Instead he rolled it out of his mouth onto his palm, admiring the way it looked beneath the moon light, pale, ghastly and wet from his spit. No, not like this and so he placed it reverently beside Papa’s squashed face.

Copia breathed as he slipped down from Papa’s chest and straddled his around his waist. Fingers deftly undressed the former Papa, cloth rent and torn before revealing a smooth, pale chest, sewn thread marred its perfection. But the thought of Papa split open, his organs removed as embalming fluid filled his veins stirred his aching cock.

Once more, he bends down, kissing the threads, tracing the macabre display as his hands glided from Papa’s sternum, down his nipples before grabbing the band of the last piece of clothing that protected whatever final dignity the dead man had left.

With a single stroke Papa Emeritus the Third was finally bared to him.

Soft dark hair covered the man’s groin, trimmed neatly. His cock, despite unstirred was thick and uncut. Copia swallowed – remembering the times he’d hear the Siblings of Sins spoke of his prowess, of how he destroyed and made them whole again (and again and _again)._ Despite being a shameless slut, Copia was probably the only person who yearned but never got to see Papa in his sexual glory. Oh he heard, he _heard_ but to see?

Never.

But now, he sees all and Papa couldn’t do anything about it. Copia undid his cassock, unable to hold it in much longer. His cock was shockingly warm to touch – for a moment he forgot that humans had heat, their blood warm but the cold Papa yielded felt more desirable.

With a hard swallow – his heart beating furiously in his living chest - the Cardinal spread Papa’s stiffening legs.

Tenderly he caressed the dead man’s cock. It was icy as expected and hard. Copia imagined Papa stroking himself, face flushed as a lover slipped it into their wet, warm mouth.

There would be no moans as Copia takes in the flaccid yet rigid thing, no heat as blood pumped into the organ, gaining length but his mind could think of no greater pleasure as he took the whole thing down his throat, bobbing up and down as his body shook and shivered.

Soon, however, his own cock demanded attention; so with a pop, his mouth slid off the wet member before pecking Papa’s tip and settled it upon the man’s stomach.

Blood thundered in his ear as he lifted the man’s waist, before position his own tip onto Papa’s tiny hole.

Copia breathed and then _thrusted_ – a keen moan escaped him as cold, dry wall surrounded his cock. It hurts and it was _so_ wrong but instead of revulsion all he could think off was fucking this man – his corpse – until all that’s left are cum stained entrails.

And so he fucked – thrusting and gasping, his body bowed as his hips _moved,_ chasing that pleasure – heady of the power he had over his former enemy. The body shook, dislodging grey matter from Papa’s smashed skull as Copia continued to pound into Papa’s hole, gasping and groaning into the night. 

It was obscene, it was _heresy_ but most of all it was _divine_.

Copia felt pleasure burning from within and with one final plunge, pure white bliss blinded his eyes as he came, spurting and shaking.

Someone was roaring and it was only when he started to breathe, his throat hoarse, did he realize it was him.

He shuddered then with a few more weak thrusts, his cock softened, twitched and slid out from Papa’s abused hole. Spent, Copia fell on top of Papa’s chest, gasping and trembling as he allowed pleasure thrum all over his body.

So blissful he was, he did notice the clapping at first. He thought his ears were playing with him when suddenly, the ground moved.

Copia didn’t have time to think when the world spins and he found himself slammed onto his back by strong, cruel arms. The cardinal cried out in pain, as his body was still sensitive from his orgasm but a cold, inhuman laugh froze him in his spot.

Flesh and bone, hung from his – no – the _thing’s –_ neck as it slowly knitted, snapped and mended. Copia wanted to scream but all he could do was open mouth in horror as muscle, nerves and flesh slowly rebuild itself, a horrific reverse video come to life as skull morphed back into the familiar, skull painted grin.

“No – no _impossible –_ NO.” Copia whimpered as he struggled – this was all wrong and impossible but as warmth flooded the arms that once laid still and the pain wrecked his body for too long to be a nightmare.

Papa laughed, no, he cackled as he leered down upon the younger man.

“Magnifico! Perfectto _ratto!”_ The creature barked, tightening his grip around his prisoner.

“I didn’t think rat fucker here is also a corpse fucker! Oh, Copia, _Copia_ , you’re worse than I had imagined! Wanting me dead is nothing special but wanting me dead so that you could fuck me?”

The thing laughed harder, so hard tears trailed down his cheek.

“Copia, sweetheart, _darling_ , my ass hurts so much. Not even lube? Tsk – tsk. Well, that just wouldn’t do, _caro mio_. So _rude._ ”

The man whimpered and tried to move away as Papa leaned closer to the Cardinal’s face.

“I’m just going to have to teach you the importance of proper lubrication, hmm?”

Copia’s last thoughts was just – of course he’d say that – before strong hands clamped down on the sides of his head and with a twist all turned black.


End file.
